The Scientist
by bumblewolf
Summary: "Even if you don't want friends, I will be there by your side every step of the way. I will help you with whatever you need and will be loyal to you. I will hold you, even if you push me away, and give you my shoulder to cry on, And I will love you until the end, even if you are the one to deliver it." Sherlock Holmes/OC one-shot series
1. Chapter 1

The Scientist

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I recently started watching Sherlock on Netflix and fell in love with it. So, I am relatively new to the fandom, so please don't go super saiyan crazy on me if you absolutely hate the idea of a Sherlock/oc story. Reviews are always nice, just please don't go to the extreme in hurting my feelings, though you are entitled to your own opinion. Please read, review and enjoy! P.s, can anyone guess where this title is from? **

Prologue

He was… different from everyone else. I knew that much just by looking at him. Even before I formally met him, the brief encounter we did have, which was** very** brief, aroused questions in me. Questions to this day I still don't have answers to. Running into him was an accident really. Though now, it has occurred to me, that maybe, he wanted me to run into him. Like he planned for us to meet. I guess that's one of life's great mysteries. You never know who you'll meet, or how they will change your life.

I was running for my life. The dark and vast streets of London were mysteriously vacant; leading me to think that whoever was trying to kill me had purposefully made it that way. My worn sneakers smacked against the gravel pavement, echoing eerily around me. My breathing was heavy, almost to the point where I would pass out if I exerted myself anymore.

I stopped for a moment under a streetlamp, trying to catch my breath, and keep my quivering body from collapsing. I laughed, a quick huff, relieved and astonished to see that I had eluded a speeding car, with only my body's speed. Fear and adrenaline helped also.

I straightened up from my bent over position, and looked around, running my sweaty hands through my hair. I need a shower. I thought absentmindedly, wincing as I moved my legs forward. At least I escaped. I thought, a smug smile sliding on my face.

That's when the car rounded the corner.

The rubber tires screeched as they skidded around the block, burning rubber behind them. Headlights flashed on, blinding me instantly. I shielded my eyes quickly, then forced my legs to run once more.

After only two minutes, my legs were calling it quits. I started to slow down, even as I tried to force myself to go faster. In my desperation to get away, I made the mistake of turning. Right into an alley.

"Oh no. No no no no no!" I blew out, my heart hammering inside me like a jackhammer. I darted my head around to see if there was any way out, but to my horror, there was none. I turned to try and run back out the way I came, but stopped mid-stride. The car was blocking the exit.

It was sleek, and black, with darkly tinted windows, making it impossible for me to see into it. Not that it would have mattered. Being able to see my murderer wouldn't make death come any slower.

I slowly backed up, as the car inched forward, both of us seeming to move the same distance each time. Our deadly tango stopped, when my back hit the alley wall.

The car stopped abruptly, the headlights shutting off, bathing the alley in darkness.

I gasped, trying futilely to adjust my eyes. I could hear the car door open, and the clicking of shoes approach me. Only when the figures were two feet in front of me could I see the outline of them. There were three of them. All men, I could tell from the broad shoulders and seemingly bald heads. I couldn't make out any of their facial features, which frightened me more than if I could've seen their faces. One of the men stepped forward, causing me to whimper softly and press myself against the wall. Then he spoke.

"Where is it?" He asked, in a stern voice. I was confused, what is he talking about? I wondered.

"I'll ask you again. Where is it?" He asked, more forcefully this time.

"W-What are you talking about?" I stammered.

"Don't play dumb with me. I know you know where it is." He growled.

"It?" I whispered, gulping nervously.

"THE CODE!" He roared, making me cry out and cover my ears. "The code that you stole from me. I want it back. Now." The man threatened, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an object. I didn't know what that object was until I heard a click. I started hyperventilating. The man took a step toward me.

"Tell me where it is, or I'll blow your pretty brains out." He said sweetly, pointing the gun at me.

"Please. I don't know what you're talking abo-"

"One." I was cut off when the man began counting. And I knew what would happen when he got to three.

"Two." He continued, stepping closer, aiming the gun.

I shut my eyes as the man opened his mouth to seal my fate.

"Moriarity!" A voice shouted. To me, that voice was the voice of an angel. I opened my eyes to see the outline of yet another man, standing in the entrance of the alley.

"Ah, look who has arrived to save the day." The man with the gun said, turning to face the other man. The man in the entrance began walking toward us, filling me with the hope that he would somehow save me. 

My hope was quickly dissipated however, when the man with the gun roughly grabbed my hair and pulled me to stand in front of him.

"Not another step or this will be another skull to put on your mantle." The man chuckled, pressing the gun to my head.

"Moriarity, what do you want from her?" the other man asked, stopping upon the threat.

"That's for me to know and for you to.. find out." My captor said, pressing the gun deeper into my cranium. I whimpered at the uncomfortable sensation.

The other man began walking towards us again.

"Ah ah ah. You wouldn't want this poor girl's brains spattered all over the building now would you? Be a hell of a mess to clean up. Or maybe you would like that? I heard you got off on that sort of thing. No... You wouldn't would you? You have so many questions. Theories running through your head right now about my connection to this girl. What does he want from her? What does she have that my archenemy could want? I can read you like a book. This chapter should be very interesting. Let's start from, once upon a time…" My captor slowly pressed his finger down on the trigger.

In a flash, the other man tackled me and my captor both to the ground, evidently freeing me. I scrambled up and watched in shock and awe, how quickly and gracefully the man moved, the swishing of his coat, reaching my eyes through the inky dark.

In the end, my captor swung and landed a blow to the other man's head, effectively stunning him for a moment. It was all my captor needed. In the time that the man had been struck, my captor and the two other men had jumped into their car and sped away.

"Damn." The man cursed, spitting at the car as it left the alleyway. I feverently tried to see him through the darkness, but to no avail. I shakily stepped closer to the man, to thank him for saving me.

But before I could, he roughly grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the alley and pushed me up against the wall adjacent to it.

I could see him clearly now. And what a sight he was. I gasped as I took in the beautiful man before me.

He was tall. Around six feet I'd say. Dark black hair, followed by a similarly dark pair of eyebrows, contrasted excellently with his light sky blue eyes. And to top it all off he had gorgeously carved cheekbones along with the most succulent pair of cupid's bow lips I'd ever seen.

His pale skin glowed under the streetlamps, leaving me speechless for a moment.

"What did Moriarity want from you?" He asked quietly, his voice sending shivers up my spine.

"Who?" I asked, staring into his hypnotizing eyes.

"The man in the alleyway." He said more forcefully this time, snapping me out of my stupor.

"I don't know. He kept going on about some sort of code." I explained, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

"Code? What kind of code? Why would he ask you about a code?" he asked intensely, putting his hands on either side of my head. I swallowed at the unexpected close proximity.

"He thought I had the code." I said, now frightened of this strange man before me.

"Do you?" The man queried his eyes boring into mine.

"N-No. I swear. I have no idea what is going on .One minute I'm walking home, and the next I'm being shot at and hunted down." I shook slightly, aware it had started to drizzle.

The man stared at me, long and hard, seemingly unfazed by the downfall of rain. Then, it seemed as if he came to a conclusion, for he slowly slid away from me, and backed up, turning to glance around him. "Where do you live?" He asked out of the blue.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

"No, don't tell me. I already know. 122 Kensington St, judging by the heavy brick residue on your shoes, and not to mention that bakery smell. It lingers, even after so many hours. I recognize it. Daniel's Bakery. Only bakery in all of London that uses special chemicals in their wheat to keep the scent fresh even if the bread is not. Also, right across the street from where you live. You go there almost everyday; the bread under your fingernails is evidence of that. You try to resist going there, you know the bread is stale, yet you go because the smell is inviting."

I gaped at him for a minute before recovering. "How did you-"

"I am a detective. This is what I do. Impressed? You should be." The man began walking away. I followed him, not sure where else to go. "I'll have John get your belongings tomorrow morning. You'll be staying with me until I crack this case." He stated simply, his hands folded behind his back.

"Are you insane? What makes you think I would just move in with a complete stranger?" I yelled, my anger rising.

He stopped then, making me stumble back in order to avoid running into him. He turned to stare at me, rooting me to the spot. I suddenly felt very foolish about my outburst, and very, idiotic.

"You find me intriguing. A mystery. Dark secretive stranger come to save you. You're curious. You want to know more about me, to sate that curiosity. You have questions, and I can answer them. Now, follow me. I must find a cab." After he said this, he turned once more and began walking away. I watched him, still rooted to the spot, before I called out to him.

"Who are you?" I yelled, cringing as a rain drop hit my eyelid. He stopped, and looked over his shoulder, a small smile on his face.

"Sherlock Holmes."

And thus, our descent into madness began.


	2. Chapter 2

Heartbreaker

**Author's Note: I want to remind everyone that since this is a one- shot series; I will be jumping around in Sherlock and my Oc's relationship, and will do two parters to one- shots if requested. I also will gladly accept suggestions for one- shots; in fact, I insist you guys give me ideas. P.S The title for each one-shot is a song, and I suggest listening to it while reading. If you want to know the artist of the song just read it at the bottom. Enjoy! **

He was late. Again. I checked my watch for the twentieth time that night and sighed dejectedly. Sherlock had asked me to dinner after a particularly stressful case, which had put a huge strain on our relationship. According to him, a proper dinner would do us both good. He promised that after solving this case, he would take a break and spend time with me. It wasn't the first time he had promised this.

I had agreed enthusiastically, ecstatic at the prospect of finally spending time with Sherlock. Though I should have known this dinner would end up like all the others.

I looked around the nearly empty restaurant, noticing how the only people left there were couples. I turned my attention to the stub of a candle on my table, when a painful twinge punctured my heart at the sight.

I sighed once more, blowing the air through my teeth. I laid my face on my hand and picked up the half empty wine glass beside me. My disappointed image stared back at me from the glass's reflective surface, showing me how pitiful I looked.

"Oh... Sherlock. What am I going to do with you?" I muttered, placing the wine glass back on the satin tablecloth. If that were any other night I wouldn't have been as angry and disappointed with him. But that night was special. It wasn't only the night for celebrating another solved case. It was the night to celebrate our anniversary. Not that he would remember. I thought, recalling the past times he had forgotten.

I tapped my fingers on the table for a moment before huffing in frustration. That's it. I thought. I roughly grabbed my purse and dug through it, before I found my phone. I turned it on, and brought up Sherlock's number, poising my fingers over my keyboard, preparing to text him.

I paused, unsure of what to write. How about, get your butt to dinner? My mind suggested. "No." I scoffed, shaking my head at the absurd idea. I think a simple 'where are you' will suffice. I concluded, typing just that. It wasn't long before I got a reply.

I unlocked my phone to read Sherlock's answer.

"Busy. Why?"-SH

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I stared at his response, not wanting to belief that it was real. Not wanting to belief that he had actually forgotten our anniversary, once more.

"Of all the inconsiderate-", I started, but stopped, as tears began falling from my eyes onto my phone. I quickly put it away, and slowly stood up. I rubbed my eyes, trying to retain some of my dignity, and gazed down at the candle. It was almost at its end. Somehow to me, it symbolized a similar fate of me and Sherlock's relationship. I reached over the table, and extinguished the flame.

**Author's Note: Song; Heartbreaker by Taio Cruz**


	3. Chapter 3

Love The Way You Lie

**Author's Note: So, since no one suggested a one shot, I decided to write a follow up chapter for the previous one-shot. Maybe Sherlock will redeem himself. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and please R and R! Enjoy! **

I awoke to silence. Images of the previous night flashed through my head, causing me to bury my face in my pillow, to try and block out the memories. The echoes of our uplifted voices reverberated around my brain, giving me a brief headache. I winced and clenched the pillow tighter, willing my tears not to fall.

That's when something came in contact with my hand. I paused in my actions and fingered the object, pulling it out from under the pillow.

A smooth, creamy envelope addressed to me, greeted my eyes. I sat up immediately, my heart hammering at the familiar script.

I stared at the letter, contemplating on whether or not I should open it. In the end, my resolve crumbled, when the familiar scent of Sherlock's cologne wafted from the paper.

I carefully opened the letter, being delicate as to not tear it. The smell of him was stronger now, sending goosebumps along my arms. My eyes took in the words on the page greedily, relieved that Sherlock hadn't completely abandoned me.

"Meet me on the roof"-SH

I bit my lip, unsure if I should really go. The last time we spoke, hurtful things were said, but mostly by me. Give him a chance. I thought, rubbing the paper between my fingers. I sat there for a minute, before sighing deeply. I made up my mind.

I reached the roof twenty minutes later. I hesitantly opened the door leading to the roof, and peeked out. Empty. I stepped onto the roof and glanced around, my heart heavy. My throat started to close up and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Not again. I thought, wrapping my arms around my body. "How could you do this to me again?" I whispered, letting my tears fall freely.

"Do what?" I heard a voice say.

I swung my head around, in disbelief. There before me, dressed in a tux, was my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. He stood a distance away, with his hands tucked in his pockets. He advanced towards me, when he spoke again, not breaking eye contact.

"I don't recall doing anything like this before." He said in his rich baritone voice.

I stared at him, the tears still flowing down my cheeks. I turned my head away, ashamed of him seeing me like that. I could sense him getting closer until he stood right in front of me. A hand gently lifted my chin up to stare at him, revealing a tortured look in his eyes.

"Stop these tears." He commanded softly, brushing away the forming ones with his thumb. I blinked, the soft touch surprising me.

"Come with me." He ordered, gently grasping my hand, and pulling me forward. I had no choice but to follow. He led me to the other side of the roof, revealing a romantic setup. I gasped at the beautiful scene before me.

A table with a silk cloth stood at the center, surrounded by dozens of lit candles, filling the area with a golden glow. On the table stood a wine bottle, along with two empty glasses. Sherlock's violin leaned against the leg of the table, adding to the romantic effect.

Sherlock let go of my hand to twirl around, his arms outstretched.

"What do you think? Personally, I think it's a bit much and far too gaudy for my liking, but I know you fancy these sorts of things." He said, taking a seat at the table. He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Please sit. I prepared a special piece just for you." He said, motioning to his violin.

I couldn't. As perfect as that moment was, I couldn't. The pain from the previous night still hurt me, our heated words still haunting me. I hugged myself once more, and shifted my foot uncertainly.

Sherlock stared at me, before sighing. He stood and made his way over to me. He stopped to stand in front of me, forcing me to look up at him.

"I am truly sorry for the pain I've caused you. Please forgive me. I swear to you, it won't happen again." He whispered lowly, his pleading eyes, reflected by the setting sun.

I knew it was a lie. I couldn't even remember the number of times I'd heard him say these words on different occasions. But I did forgive him. I always did. So without a second thought, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to meet mine, the two of us lost in a sea of passion.

**Author's Note: Song; Love The Way You Lie by Eminem ft. Rihanna**


	4. Chapter 4

Kiss Me

**Author's Note: Just a little cute fluff piece. Enjoy! **

My head lay on Sherlock's chest, listening to his light breathing and steady heartbeat. It was silent in the apartment, the only inhuman noise, the whirring fan beside us. Sherlock didn't usually sleep with the fan; I was the one who insisted on having the soothing sound of the inanimate object.

I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and sighed softly, burying my face against his bare chest, and deeply inhaled his scent. He smelled, well… like Sherlock. The musky aroma of his cologne still clung to his skin, mixing with the subtle smell of aged parchment. It was a smell I had grown to love, and made Sherlock all the more unique to me, save for his other trademark abilities.

Today had been one of our good days. Or rather, a good day for Sherlock. He had solved over three cases and had been in an amiable mood because of the fact. And when he was happy, so was I. Sherlock had even made light conversation, something which surprised me and John. This was also the first time in a long time we had shared the same bed. He typically took the couch, or didn't sleep at all. I treasured whatever slivers of humanity he showed and made sure to take advantage of the rarity.

Sherlock stirred under me, snapping me out of my thoughts. He began mumbling incoherently, shifting more aggressively than before, leading me to think something was wrong. I picked my head up off his chest, and gently cradled his face with my hands.

"Sherlock?" I whispered quietly, trying to rouse him from the state he was in. He only groaned in response, as a troubled look crossed his features. His brows furrowed, his whole face clenching, in what I assumed was pain. "Sherlock, wake up." I tried once again to awaken the disturbed man, but to no avail. His hands clenched the bedsheet, knotting the fabric in his fists so tightly I thought he would rip them. I lightly shook Sherlock's shoulder, and glanced at the bedroom door, preparing to call out for John, who was stationed in the room next to ours.

All of a sudden, Sherlock shot up, causing me to jump back in fright. His blue eyes, now holding a wild look, flashed around the room, before settling on me. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing loud and labored. I stared at him for a second, contemplating on what to do. I had never seen Sherlock like this, so I was unsure how to respond. Luckily, and a bit astonishingly, he did it for me.

He grabbed my face and kissed me forcefully, his grip tight on my visage. I kissed him back hesitantly, wary of his strange behavior. Sherlock was an unpredictable man at times, so I didn't want to push him. I was usually the one to engage him in intimate affairs and was careful not to push my boundaries. I slowly raised my hands to weave through his hair, but Sherlock broke the kiss, and swiftly wrapped his arms around my midsection, gripping my waist tightly, his head falling to lie on my chest.

I could feel him shaking, so I did the only thing I could do for him. I comforted him. I placed my hands in his hair, and gently played with the curls, massaging his cranium. This technique was something I discovered that was a great way to calm Sherlock down. I gently rocked back and forth, whispering soothing words to him.

"Everything's going to be alright love. Just a bad dream." I cooed reassuringly. We stayed like that in quiet contentment, until I felt Sherlock's heartrate go back to normal. I stopped rocking him and gazed down at him in adoration.

"Oh, Sherlock, you'll never understand how much I love you." I whispered, pressing my lips to his hair.

My declaration, like always, fell to silent ears.

**Author's Note: Song; Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran**


	5. Chapter 5

A Thousand Years

**Author's Note: Thanks to those who reviewed and for those who wanted another chapter, this is for you! Enjoy! P.S you can also request songs/ideas for future one shots. **

"Hey Sherlock?" I called from the couch.

It took a minute for me to get a response from him, due to his inept concentration on the experiment he was conducting. "What is it?" He asked, not looking up from his work.

I bit my lip and turned to face him. "Can I ask you a question?" I asked, trying to make my voice strong. He made a noise that I took as an invitation to continue.

"If we lived to be a thousand years old, would you still love me?" I questioned hesitantly. I didn't expect him to answer so quickly, nor for what his response was.

"If it were humanly possible to live for a century, I have no doubt in my mind that we both would be miserable and would spend so much time trying to hold on to existence, that we would have no time or patience for such frivolous endeavors." Sherlock answered, still not looking at me.

I swallowed down my disappointment, though with Sherlock, I should have expected such a reaction. Though we'd been in a 'relationship', (or as close to a relationship someone could get with Sherlock), for months, he had shown very little to no affection towards me whatsoever. I had hoped establishing my feelings for him would get him to unlock deeply buried emotions that I knew he was capable of. So far, my investments weren't paying off.

I sighed and turned away from Sherlock, sinking into the leather material of the loveseat. I glanced up at the wall and frowned at the bullet riddled smiley face. It seemed to me that Sherlock always had to destroy anything that was happy. Including those he claimed he cared about.

"So I'll take that as a 'no' then." I mumbled, not realizing I had said it aloud.

Apparently I had done so, and I did so loud enough, that Sherlock had heard me. I realized this when a clang resounded in the kitchen, and the sound of a blowtorch ceased. I then heard shuffling, but did not turn at the noise. Something was then placed quietly on the table beside me. Though I was curious, I still did not move, afraid to face Sherlock. He was very unpredictable, and I didn't know what to expect from him at my whispered words.

It was silent after that to the point where I could hear the city buzzing outside. It was usually never this quiet or calm. It was… eerie to say the least. I was so used to the noise of mostly Sherlock, conducting experiments or playing his violin.

I shifted around and was met with an empty room. I glanced around for a moment, wondering where Sherlock could have gone. Though it was custom for him to leave the room abruptly, I still never got used to the emptiness I felt when he was no longer present. I sighed dejectedly and turned fully, placing my elbows on my knees. I leaned my face against my hands and yawned, not realizing how late it had gotten. What time is it? I wondered, as I sleepily ran my hands across my face.

I jumped in surprise when my eyes landed on an object atop the table, I was sure hadn't been there a moment ago. My eyebrows scrunched in confusion, as I tried to deduce what exactly the object was from faraway.

Getting no conclusion with this method, I stood and leaned over to grab the artifact.

I held the object in my hand and blinked, trying to let my eyes adjust to the dim light in the room.

It was beautifully crafted, shiny pieces of metal bent at ridiculously curved angles, to create a masterpiece, making me instantly realize who had made it. I smiled as I turned the object around in my hands, savoring the smooth texture of it. I closed my fist around it, marveling at how it fit in my hand perfectly.

Upon opening my hand, I discovered something else about the object.

In an elegant script, the words _toujours et a' jamais_ were engraved into the back of the object, the French language making me wonder what the English translation was. I bit my lip and looked around for my laptop, my curiosity getting the better of me.

In less than a minute I had typed in the words and had gotten the English translation.

I smiled when the readable phrase popped up on my screen.

_Forever and Ever. _

I smiled wider, warmth flooding my veins. Sometimes he does care. I mused, letting a happy tear slip from my eye.

A clock went off then, signaling the midnight hour. I stretched and clutched the object tight to my chest, a grin crossing my features.

"Happy Valentine's Day Sherlock." I whispered, looking once more at the crafted skull in my hands, which resembled the one on his mantle.

I sighed happily in realization that not only had Sherlock given me a Valentine's gift, but he had also answered my question.

**So... Sherlock gave her a skull. How… romantic? What should she get him? A smack upside the head? A kiss? Something else? Leave your suggestions in the review box!**


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